Salted Ruins
by The Forgotten Phoenix
Summary: The Earth is in dire trouble: its savior is dead and one city has already been razed to the ground. In this bleak dawn-where hope is the only thing alive-everything comes down to the choice of a single individual. Just what will be the choice: life or death. In truth, nobody-not even the soul-knows the answer to that simple question.
1. Brave New World

May 12, 767. South City.

Every Z-Fighter knew this date, and many of them dreaded this date. It was date of reckoning, the date where they'd find out if all their work was in vain.

Piccolo, Krillen, and Goku were flying solemnly towards ground zero for the presumed android attack. Each of the silent trio appeared anxious to the point of being neurotic, and none of them questioned this tension. All three were aware of it, knew the cause of it, and didn't want to question it.

Quickly closing in on the sprawling metropolis of South City, they swiftly came to the same conclusion: a new rendezvous would be needed. South City, as it was contained too many angles and ambush spots. If discovered, there would be significant pandemonium that would surely draw the androids before any form of organized resistance could be erected.

Their indecision on a new meeting point would be short-lived; they were distracted from planning a new spot by a symphony of whispers assaulting their ears. None of them being comfortable with the subtle pseudo-incantations disturbing their peace, they all subconsciously decided to track down the whisper to their central location.

Krillen, Goku and Piccolo listened to the chants of the voices to the pinpoint their location. Eureka, that massive mountain to the east of the city, that must be where their coming from. Now where on that mountain could they land?

As the motley crew approaches the mountain they see a plateau that would be suitable for landing. All three cut off their ki and lands on the plateau, only find out they weren't the only ones with this idea, and coincidentally the identity of original whisperers. It turns out that Bulma, Tien, and Yamcha were already waiting for them to show up and were chatting rather loudly out of impatience.

Tien immediately noticed something wrong with Goku in particular. He looked the same as he always does: Orange gi, black boots, blue undershirt, and the same black hair reminiscent of a palm tree. It was the undercurrent of his aura that was bothering him.

Anybody who ever knew Goku would know this: Goku would always give off an aura of jovial cheer. That nothing could go wrong, and everything will be all right in the end. That just didn't exist for whatever reason today.

However, who felt good about today? According to the stranger we'll all die today if Goku doesn't come through. I would feel a little bent out of shape with those expectation, too!

While Tien hyperventilated on Goku's aura, everybody else was questioning Bulma. These experienced fighters were all aware of the site of Bulma at a battlefield she shouldn't be at. By now it wasn't that surprising, but the baby carriage that Bulma carried most definitely was.

Krillen stumbles towards Bulma with a clear look of embarrassment on his face. He didn't know how to phrase this question, and he'd have to, judging by the look of confusion on Bulma's face. "Don't mind me asking, Bulma, but what's up with the baby. Is he Yamcha's kid?"

An indignant scoff courtesy of Yamcha dispels that theory, but not before he interjects his own comment. "He's not my kid." After averting his eyes, most likely to avoid the confused and stunned look on Krillen's face, he adorned a more solemn expression before finishing his comment. "Wait. Wait until she tells you who the father is."

With that being said, Yamcha walks away with his arms at his sides and shoulder low and sunken in.

Goku intervenes in the comment with an air of dramatic irony. "No Krillin," says Goku, then turning and looking in Bulma's direction. "Trunks is Vegeta's son, isn't he?"

Bulma's eyes momentarily flash with a dreadful menace, showcasing once again the power of a woman's ire. "Dang it, Goku! I was going to surprise people with Trunk's heritage!"

Goku's eyes Bulma sheepishly and slowly steps back, knowing courtesy of Chi Chi that when women he knew were angry, it was best to stay out of the blast radius. This momentary anger didn't last to Goku's delight and she calmed down.

Approaching the stupid scene, Piccolo towers over the lunacy and diverts the tension with a single sentence. "While we are on the subject, where is Vegeta?"

Bulma, looking at Piccolo shrugged her shoulder and responded. "I don't have a clue where Vegeta is. I really haven't seen him around lately. I know he was training to come here, but with the baby and all, I guess I must of lost track of him."

"He'll show. He wouldn't miss a fight!" was all Goku would say on the matter, and by the nods of approval so did everyone else.

Goku, supplicating for forgiveness, approached Bulma and looked directly into Trunk's stroller and tried to entertain the child by making faces. The only face that changed was his own, after Trunks hurled straight onto his face.

"Sorry Goku, I knew that I didn't do something before joining you guys," said an exasperated Bulma, picking up her child and started to gently burp him so that...calamity wouldn't happen again.

To Krillen, something was very wrong. He could begrudgingly admit that Bulma was here, but why bring her son into it. Didn't she know that this place would become a battlefield?

However, he could only whisper it to himself. He didn't know how to question her without coming into direct conflict with her infamous anger.

Not knowing how to word his question the right way, and not willing to be chastised for his nosiness, Krillen quickly came to the conclusion that discretion would be the better part of valor in this scenario.

Piccolo, overhearing Krillen's mumbling, had no such issues about questioning her parental decision making.

Piccolo yelled out at Bulma, who flinched upon hearing her name be belted out so loud. "Why did you bring your son into this mess? Do you have a clue about what goes on in these battles, they aren't games?"

Bulma tried to respond with a fiery tirade, but couldn't find a fault in his statement. She just settled for snorting loudly enough for everybody to hear her.

A tense peace swept through the amalgam of fighters and heroes; all the small talk topic's had evaporated and everybody's mind drifted to the same place. It was disturbingly obvious how much he was stilled missed in moment's like these.

Tien wasn't going to interrupt the theatrics of Bulma, but he noticed what was amiss. Goku was here, yet Gohan wasn't.

Assuming nothing was wrong; in fact he knew nothing was wrong. Nevertheless, he would press the question. "Goku, not to be rude, but where is Gohan? Is Chi Chi not letting him come?"

The tense cordial peace centered on Tien. Goku's eyes changed from mildly amused to duller than a butter knife. Krillen looked up to the sky with a solemn expression which Bulma soon mirrored.

Piccolo half-heartedly growled a curse in his native Namekian. He was still especially prickly about the affair, and it wasn't going to go away soon.

He swallowed his anger he muttered. "Now isn't the best time to speak of such matters!"

Goku intervened on Tien's behalf. "Don't worry, Piccolo. I don't mind his question, he doesn't know what happened."

Turning to the left to level himself with Tien's eyes was all the time that was needed for Goku to collect himself.

"Tien...Gohan is...dead," Goku mumbled out of his maw of his mouth, with an alarming level of remorse and regret. This attitude was completely foreign to the Goku that Tien remembered befriending years ago at the Second Budokai.

Tien was floored at this revelation. What could kill a kid before he even truly began living? Tien's mind was a convoluted mess. What happened? How did he die? Was it a murder or illness? There were simply far too many questions to ask.

Piccolo, now that the hare was out of the hat responded to at least one question. "Gohan died of a heart virus that was supposed to kill Goku. We did what we could, but nothing could be done."

Tien saw Goku's expression appear even more crest-fallen, however didn't see him turn around and face the city. Judging by his still demeanor he was reminiscing of the death of his son.

* * *

_It was a beautiful autumn day. Most of the foliage lay flat on the ground with many columns of bare trees, and at the center lay Mt Paozu buried to the hilt with snow._

_It should have been an average mundane type of day at the Son's household. The preparations for the Androids were hitting their final conclusion; just polishing already existing techniques and the usual physical conditioning. _

_This never ceased to perturb Piccolo. He never understood Goku's logic on...almost anything. Nothing fazed him for any reason, even if it should have fazed him. _

_However, if he couldn't get Goku to agree with the dire straits of their condition, Gohan probably would agree. _

_Piccolo dropped from the sky and knocked on the door. The door swung open almost being ripped off its hinges. In the doorway stood an exhausted and irate Chi Chi, whose eyes twitched at the sight of the green alien. _

_She was obviously exhausted and her mien seemed to characterized this. Noticeable sacks had developed under eyes, while her hair seemed a bit frazzled and her reaction time was failing. He should know, it was the first time in forever he didn't have to duck from a flailing fry pan at first entry. _

_"__Oh, Piccolo is that you?" she responded after almost half a minute, still not registering the exchange completely. "What are you here for?" _

_"__Yes, it's me, is Gohan in a willing mood to train," said Piccolo in an almost obtuse manner. He needed to get Gohan's training regiment started again, he was conspicuously absent for almost half a week. _

_Whatever exhausted mannerisms Chi Chi was being hypnotized by disappeared after that sentence. All powerful adrenaline coursed through her system and her eyes blazed back to life. Piccolo, like Goku before him took a step back when he saw her reach for something out of his line of sight. _

_Chi Chi, not finding what she wanted apparently, decided to be verbalize her displeasure through blunt speech. "Piccolo, I'll have you know my son is not going to be training today. In fact, he won't even be studying today. So you will not come barging onto my porch demanding my son," she raged with only a partial adrenaline-induced insanity raging. _

_Piccolo was more than incensed at this proclamation. Something was wrong with Gohan and his family, or at least Goku, wouldn't talk to him about it. If Chi Chi wasn't pressing studying than it was more than a bit serious. _

_Piccolo in his normal gruff manner pressed the issue. "What's wrong with Gohan?" _

_As soon as it came, Chi Chi's adrenaline induced anger disappeared, signaling the onset of her all-to-common hysterics. She gripped the coat rack close to the door and started to sob uncontrollably. Piccolo waited for her to stop her antics before he preceded to interrogate her for the solution to his question. _

_She slowly calmed down and started to talk at her own volition. "We...don't know. It started so soon and so swift. He was playing like a normal kid with Icarus and then suffered an unfathomable blackout at three hundred feet. Goku caught him before he We put him to bed and he was in a coma for almost forty-eight hours, and when he woke up he was screeching in horrific pain. Neither us nor Bulma can figure out what's wrong, and he fading fast."_

_Piccolo's ire was almost at full boil. Gohan was close to death and they didn't warn him of this. It was inexcusable that he wasn't made aware of this sooner. _

_Still, getting angry was not going to help him, Chi Chi, or Gohan in the least bit. That didn't mean he wasn't willing to threaten her if he wasn't admitted to see Gohan's condition for himself. _

_"__Then take me to him Chi Chi," said Piccolo, his patience already thin and more than an undertone of menace laced under his words._

_Chi Chi was considering delivering a tirade about his manners, at least until another voice interrupted her thoughts. "Let him in Chi Chi," said Goku, appearing from out of the corner of the hallway adjacent to Gohan's room. _

_Chi Chi relented under Goku's request and unobstructed herself from the doorway, giving Piccolo access into the house. Piccolo's loud footsteps were heard from all over the house, even from within Gohan's room. _

_Piccolo walked calmly through the kitchen and entered the room of his young charge. It was only then that truly understood the dire condition Gohan was in. Gohan was laying supine in bed, his torso and legs obscured by a thick layers of blankets and sheets. Only his head was clearly visible from any distance. _

_He approached the bed and crouched down to Gohan's level. His eyes mingled over where Gohan's body would be and eventually returned to focus on his face._

_Gohan's tan skin was almost bleached white. Sweat was easily seen on both his forehead and cheeks, that were clearly sunken in. He was shaking and moaning from what appeared to be an abnormally high fever. _

_However, it wasn't just Piccolo that was observing this exchange. Gohan, slightly delirious from the sense of vertigo, rasped out. "How...are you...doin...Mr...Picoh...lo," was all he could whisper before his sensory perception faded to black. _

_Piccolo, before he left the room, placed his index and middle finger on the bridge of Gohan's nose and whispered: "Don't worry kid, you'll be alright," before disappearing from the room and returning to the kitchen. _

* * *

_The kitchen was a scene of overall tension. Goku was leaning on the kitchen counter top while Chi Chi paced nervously._

_Piccolo's entrance into the room broke the couple from their stupor. Both approached him inquiring about their son's condition, and more importantly if he needed anything. _

_"__He's asked me if I was okay and promptly passed out," said Piccolo with his normal voice. This was all that was needed for Chi Chi to lose it._

_"__My baby passed out. This is terrible, somebody call Bulma, the hospital, call somebody," was what she called out, before ripping out the microwave from it's socket and tossing it through the window shattering the untempered glass of the window._

_Goku, ducking from the flying projectile went straight to the phone. Bulma was already aware of Gohan's fading condition, but she needed to be aware of this new complication. He waited for the ringing to subside to speak to Bulma. _

_"__Hello, this is Bulma," said Bulma, through the receiver holding a cup of coffee in her hand._

_"__Hello Bulma, this is Goku. Gohan has taken a bad turn for the worse within the last few hours."_

_"__Is he still conscious Goku?" Bulma's ever present anxiety was clearly showing to Goku's sensitive ears. _

_"__No," Goku replied, he fainted only a few minutes ago. _

_"__Fuck Goku, why didn't you tell me that he fainted sooner," her voice however betrayed more of a sense of panic than anger. She had some medical experience and when somebody fell into a coma, it was never anything good. _

_However, panic would serve no purpose now. Gohan's life was at stake and they didn't have any time to waste. Swallowing some of her fear, she replied to Goku: "Can you move him into the Capsule Corp Infirmary? We can identify the issue and see if it isn't too late for a cure or even a treatment."_

_Goku, although still uneasy was more than willing to comply. "If it's for my son's welfare than I will deliver him to you right now." _

_"__Good Goku, I will prep the infirmary for investigative scans. I'll see you and Gohan soon," before she disconnected the receiver and put down her cup of coffee. _

_Goku hung up the receiver and walked into Gohan's room. He lifted up the covers revealing his emaciated frame. Gohan for most of the week refused any food and couldn't be forced to eat, because of this and his saiyan metabolism he looked literally skin and bones. _

_Holding his frail unresponsive body in his large welcoming arms he retreated into the kitchen._

_Chi Chi at the sight of the progression of her son's illness fainted herself. _

_Goku sighed in exasperation at Chi Chi's behavior, but didn't have time to waste. He teleported directly to Bulma's location._

_The moment he rematerialized he felt an hand slammed down hard onto the top of his head. It swelled almost immediately into a nasty bump at the top of his cranium. He twisted his torso around muttering, "Hey, who did that?"_

_Bulma's voice then echoed throughout the sterile chamber. "Is that you Goku? You almost gave me a heart attack," she lambasted as she turned to face Goku and his unconscious son. She was sporting a white lab coat and her custom made eye glasses. _

_The first impression that Bulma had gathered from the sight of Gohan's sickly frame was an increased sense of anxiety and alarm. Like Piccolo, she to recognized his pale white skin, sunken cheeks, and abnormally fast breathing. _

_Bulma knew that Gohan would not live much longer fading to this degree, and she was aware that time would not be an ally. She needed to get an internal diagnostic and quick. _

_Bulma's trepidation was not lost on Goku, if Bulma was serious about something then it meant the cause was very grave. _

_After what seemed to be almost an hour of suspense, Bulma finally found what she wanted to say. "Goku, I'm not going to mince words with you. I think whatever he's suffering from an ailment that could kill him, and I don't know what it is. However, before you and I panic over this let's find out what it is. We have X-Rays, EKG's, and MRI's machines in the infirmary. They should be more than adequate for telling us what we are dealing with."_

_"__Then tell me where to go," was all that Goku mentioned of the request. _

_They spent the next hour running numerous diagnostic test, blood works, x-rays, and anything that could help explain the cause of Gohan's illness. _

_She then sent Gohan and Goku home telling them she would personally tell them the results of the lab work. _

_The wait for the Son household was excruciating. Gohan had gotten no better, in fact he was fading even faster. Everyone wanted that one sliver of hope that Gohan's condition was abnormal, but not fatal._

_This was tempered by most of the other's finding out. Krillen and Yamcha, sensing the fading ki of Gohan visited the Son's to inquire about what was happening. Once they did, neither decided to leave. They all wanted to know what would happen._

_Everyone immediately perked up at the sound of a helicopter with its blades twirling in the distance. Immediately fleeing outside they saw Bulma's figure jumping down from drivers side of the helicopter. _

_Bulma, for some reason even she couldn't figure was baffled at the reception. Still, the news probably wouldn't be best told on an open plain. "I think it would be prudent to go inside for this."_

_As the entourage came inside she wiped the sweat off her brow. She didn't know how to deliver news of this caliber. Gossip she knew something about; not telling a family that their son is terminally ill. _

_Nevertheless, she knew she had to come out and say it. "Well, Goku before I say what's wrong with Gohan can you tell me: what is Gohan's favorite place in the world? _

_Goku, clearly confused at this route of questioning replied. "I don't know, by the lake I don't know?"_

_Bulma had to tread carefully, most of the others were on to her. "Where you son appeared to be the happiest."_

_Goku, pensive in thought, came out with this thought. "I think down by that lake where we used to fish with me, Krillen, and Icarus. He really loved that place."_

_Gulping some of the saliva that was beginning to submerge her mouth, Bulma hastily spat out the devastating news. "Then Goku, I want you to find the most beautiful or idyllic part of the lake. I want you to get a shovel and bury him there."_

_At this declaration we see many responses. Krillen and Piccolo were spouting a solemn expression. Yamcha was showing one of general sadness. Chi Chi was sobbing uncontrollably using Goku as her support. _

_The problem with this was that Goku's reaction was the most profound of all. He looked like a figure of complete dejection and desolation. His face described the one thought process many believed Goku didn't have a concept of: disillusionment. _

_Bulma paused to catch her breath and unscramble her thoughts. "The diagnostic tests revealed that his heart was inflamed with multiple pathogens. I think the infection was viral, but in any case it's already spread to the point that any hope of recovery is lost. _

_The scene permeated a sense of general mourning and laments. This sight was to much for Goku to handle. Unable to stand being in the room, he got up and left through the front door before vanishing from view. _

_He reappeared at the Capsule Corp Infirmary at the foot of Gohan's hospital bed. The sight of his son's vitals being monitored was almost the breaking point for Goku._

_He walked towards the bed where his comatose son lies and begins to whisper. "I know how you admired me like a hero, you said so yourself. `I love you dad. Goku, my dad. I understand what Vegeta said came true after all. The legend. My father, a super saiyan._

_Goku stops his dialogue to lay his forehead on Gohan's forehead. A lone tear falls down Goku's face onto Gohan's._

_"__What's a super saiyan or any hero without control. What's the point of desiring power when we all succumb to this destiny by the end of our lives? I'm not an immortal; in fact, I'm only a man. I can't call myself a hero if I can't save you from this. That I couldn't stop the impossible when I needed to the most. That I watched you die as helplessly as you saw me die and fade to ash," then Goku got up, wiped the tears off of his and Gohan's face, and faded from sight. _

_Gohan died within the day, confirming the worst fears of all the people at the house. Still, like father like son, his body was spirited away by the stars themselves. He was going to the highest realms of heaven; where all good boys reside for the rest of their days. _

_Most of the Z-fighters have died before and they knew this fact, but they didn't know how it would be to lose somebody that wouldn't come back. What they did know was that Gohan was in a better place, and for this reason the funeral was a short prompt affair. The funeral was a quick heartwarming episode. Not a bad word was spoken about the young hyper half-saiyan, only his good qualities were mentioned. _

_He was buried by the lake he so cherished. Bulma had somebody inscribe a tombstone with this inscription: "to the heart that carries on." _

_They needed Gohan's heart and determination. It was only six months until contact, and they didn't want to join Gohan that soon. In all that time they didn't outwardly question what happened; nevertheless, they knew what caused Gohan to die: the heart virus._

* * *

The Z-Fighters for all that they claim to represent, haven't realized what they are protecting nor how it has changed them throughout the years. What was once just a amalgam of misfits have turned into the defenders and symbols of the society they inhabit. They have embodied the virtues of the "civilized society:" community, identity, and stability.

Community. The conglomeration of people into packs for an expressed or implied purpose. Identity. Who you are and what you'll be; most often expressed in your selected communities. Stability. The pursuit, creation and upkeep of an equilibrium that is in your advantage.

I can't pretend that this doesn't concern me. For everything they stand for, I'm the polar opposite. They will fight and scout in groups and depend on each other for support and protection, but I don't. I know the only person you can depend on in battle is you. If they understand who they are, then my identity is a hopeless mosaic of thoughts and designs. Most importantly, the stability that they so cherish disappeared the moment I stepped on their land. Orders is their guide, mine is has and will always be chaos. Complete, unrestricted, unabated chaos.

However, don't twist what I say to mean something else. For all their faults, if there is a side for me it's with them. If not them it's Gero, and I refuse to work under another megalomaniac. Been there, and done that.

I wonder what will happen when the inevitable happens. I can't keep hiding from them forever, not with the threat that Gero carries, but what will be our reactions? Chaos and order have been enemies for years, and I doubt that will change. E

Even more troubling for me is that their isn't a malicious undertone to Goku or most of his friends. The only flaw is that they support a colony of rats. Calling humans rats! Blasphemy, I know, but don't take it the wrong way.

Rats are wonderful things! Rats will wade through the worst muck to feast on the most unbecoming of foods. If a society has any form of success, you'll be sure to see them try to feast for themselves. I endear myself to rats because in many ways we are like those four legged vermin.

Most sentient beings will either subjugate themselves or create muck to please their superior's, all for the hope that something good may come to them if they do. If, for whatever reason we don't get what we like, we move to another society where are needs will be supplicated.

Every city in the world will have its rats, both metaphorical and literal. However, if you want to see the true nature of human rats, you'll have to see them where they shine the most and where I happen to be right now: in a traveling group.

In the packed confines of city streets you can see hundreds scurry around. The site would look like an open-air Bokanovskied factory line. It's a constant rat race to get where they want to go, and preferably sooner, heaven knows what will happen if they are late. Conditions with this much stress usually bring out the worst in people.

Albeit, the main thoroughfare of any city is a circus at any time of day, but morning rush hour is the worst. The cold concrete of the sidewalk, the irritating honking of car horns, and the hundreds of people that crowd the sidewalk that unintentionally bump into you are just examples of the inconvenience that rush hour provides. Most of these incidents come from human rats who are distressed and scurrying around in the open.

What's even more hilarious is the double row of trees and general greenery that separates the sidewalk from the cold asphalt of the road. Were the architect's trying to represent some kind of tranquility or peace?

It's also a rather amusingly ironic that this mass exodus to the city center is through long streets filled to the brim with dilapidated houses. I could even smell the stench of rotting wood, the broken roofs with cracked shingles, and lawns overrun with weeds.

Now, I'm probably being a bit cynical, but everyone finds time to judge everything that comes their way. Most of the time these arbitrary judgments are non-descript or stereotypical, but it they will always be prevalent. Everyone will always make a judgment on you or your possessions the moment their eyes find the subject of their focus.

It's even more of a bothersome venture because not all judgments are kept to themselves. Most people are unable to mask their reactions to unusual appearances, nor can they mask their judgment when I'm present.

It always happens, it never ceases to fail. The iota of a second that my face is revealed in the mid-morning sun, which reveals my...unique look to every passerby on this grand boulevard.

The minute changes in their countenance never seem to be uniform. It's always something different, even if there unremarkable differences. Many look by with morbid curiosity, some with indignation, others with abject horror. I've resigned myself to the fact that these variegated looks will come with my demeanor for the rest of my life.

I can't say that I blame them, though. After all, when was the last time you've seen a seven year old boy stroll down the street wearing military attire?

As I approach the end of boulevard it breaks open into a noticeable square. This square was laid with brick mortar and lined with innumerable number of souvenir shops, street peddlers, and open-air cafes.

Squares are the microcosm of society. I see every type of person represented in some form: the pushy salesmen, the nervous wreck, the let-time-go-by cafe hopper, and my personal favorite being the gossiper.

Gossipers are my favorite type to represent all sentient forms. Often they are right in what they accuse, and much more often are wrong in what they accuse. Nevertheless, they symbolize the unwarranted judgments of humanity: what we all envy, admire, hate, like, and what is petty in all sentient beings.

Universal gossipers have some kind of fixation about me. Perhaps my pride is showing up unjustifiably, but I do admit that many people are rather envious of what I am. My power and reputation have changed the course of intergalactic wars. I'm a feared killer throughout the universe known for an unpredictable wrath. Due to this unpredictable, I've noticed most societies will not do anything that will arouse my ire.

Regardless, my reputation means nothing on this planet. My odd attire and demeanor not withstanding, how many seven year olds are that threatening at first glance?

All that these people would be able to glimpse was what they would see on the outside, which wasn't too much. My obstinately spiky hair with gray streaks, the alabaster hue of my skin, and my eyes that resemble a dark storm cloud. Pretty non-descriptive, but that's how I look.

If you ask me though it isn't how I look that attracts stares moreso than my dress. As I've already stated, you attract attention by wearing military attire.

The fact that I wear military attire that looks antiquated doesn't exactly help my cause. Steel vambraces and greaves adorn both my arms and legs respectively, a black epaulets on both shoulders, and easily inferred steel chest guard under my synthetically created uniform.

What's these ignorant people judge me for is exactly what they don't know. They don't know that all my armor is ki-treated neutralizing most damage from rudimentary ki attacks. As for the epaulet, it's an insignia for the aforementioned fact that I'm a feared killer throughout the universe.

By the time I finished my sentence, it was evident that I was no longer in the square. Instead, I was half-way across another boulevard, but this one was different. It was pedestrian only and surrounded by neon-coated high rises. This must be where the human rats change from genuine scourge to almost a systematic pest. Judging by the tacky neon lights, these people have never learned the most important tip for civilization: civilization is sterilization.

What's funny about every race of rats is that they think they are special. Unfortunately for them, the people of this planet are like any other. There's hundred's that are commuting or in the process of working, many are grabbing food from the local food vendors, and there are even some praying in the local house of worship.

These human beings go throughout their lives in the same schedule, the same routine. Wake up, eat, commute, work, eat again, entertain/be entertained, and sleep. Most humans do this almost intrinsically, without thought or speculation about their actions.

In spite of the insignificance of their pursuits and work, they still arrive and obsequiously serve their bosses and superior's.

Meandering through the boulevards of this city also brings me into contact with another strand of humanity. You know these types of humans as "tourists." These human beings go to capital cities like South City, the city of my inhabitance for the moment, like vultures. They take pictures of monuments of insignificant "leaders" that they adore or abhor. Tour palaces that are supposed to represent the decadence of an earlier age, and conglomerate outside their temples to god's they don't even believe in.

All for the reason that they believe these places made a difference. That they are witnesses to the remains of an all-important event, something to take pride in seeing for themselves. Provincialism is very much alive, don't ya think?

In the end, both strands of humanity don't understand how little they mean to the rest of the universe. Neither group understands how little their contributions matter to anybody outside of their own group of people. Humanity hasn't achieved anything to be of benefit to any person residing on or out of the fringe of their own collective sphere of ignorance.

As I finish my soliloquy, I see a squirrel jutting through the street with a nut in it's mouth. What's even more of a revelation is how nobody is impeding the path of squirrel, unlike a rat, on it's self-guided quest. Why is that? Why isn't somebody trying to stop it?

Answering that question turns out to be easy. The squirrel isn't threatening or valuable. It's such a mundane and weak creature that nobody feel threatened by it, nor do they believe they can use it to their advantage. Since, squirrel's lack both use and fear they go through live with relatively few challenges.

In the context of the universe, Earth and it's denizens are like rat's with a fear factor of a squirrel's. Earth, being in the northern quadrant of the universe is surrounded by galaxies with next-to-no value. Earth, of a above-average value is not worth purging for the cost it will occur to get there.

The average human power level also is somewhere in the vicinity of five, a measure that even the most lame and inept soldier could purge without assistance. Until Goku arrived there, nobody possessed any sort of power to garner any sort of threat to the order of the universe.

Just like squirrel's, Earth has slipped through the universe's path without any form of obstruction or obstacle. I can't say I'm not a bit envious of that kind of luck.

What's truly sad for Earth is that those days may be ending. Most of humanity doesn't even realize what today will mean for them. Without the interference of somebody, today will be their judgment day. If these people don't have a hero to fight for them today, it will become their Armageddon.

The question is who will this hero be? Will it be me: the reluctant anti-social murderer? One of their more traditional heroes. Perhaps, even somebody that none of us could foresee.

Oh well, it's their funeral if somebody doesn't save them.

* * *

Goku was broken out of his reverie courtesy of a Piccolo's booming voice pointing at a dot on the horizon. Apparently, keeping your voice low wasn't in Piccolo's list of vocal expressions.

Goku, squinting at the dot he could see a gray-blue hover-car moving at a frighteningly fast speed. As it approached, Goku could hear the car's breaks press against tires the closer it got to them.

It came to a complete stop at their rocky plateau and a door sprung open. The nameless driver turned out to be Yajirobe: Korin's errand boy and resident pest.

Showing his trademark jubilation at his old friend, greeted him with the best of his old trademark hospitality. "Hey, you came to help us fight the androids!"

Yajirobe expressed complete confusion, then later profound disgust at that concept, nevertheless he decided to hand out the bag of sensu beans and make a comment on the idiocy of Goku's comment. "No Way! I Just brought these sensu beans from Korin."

"Thanks a lot," said Goku, taking the beans from Yajirobe. "Make sure to thank Korin for me!"

Yajirobe wasn't listening because he walked right to his ship, shut the door, and flew back across the city.

It's clear though he didn't follow his common sense. It was already past ten o'clock and he was flying across South City where the androids would be.

When you don't follow your common sense, bad things tend to happen. Yajirobe was no different. An imperceptible attack blew up his car and propelled him hundreds of feet down into the ocean.

The Z-fighters looked at the scene in horror. Where did it come from? Who did it?How obvious was that second question?

Finding the culprit turned out to be easy. Piccolo, still trying to be aware yells out. "You guys! It's the android, up there, I see them!"

Once everyone figured out where they were, the android's decided to drop down into the city.

"Where did they go? One second they were in the sky and then...poof, they just vanished. I didn't even sense their power level," said Goku, quivering out the sentence with distressing alarm..

"Well, they're both androids aren't they? So maybe we can't," said Tien, holding his fear with a facade of brevity.

"That's crazy! How are we supposed to find these androids if we can't even sense where they are?" replied Yamcha, who couldn't hide his fear with a mask of brevity.

"Well if we can't sense their power levels, we are just going to have to do them the old fashioned way. With our eyes," said Piccolo, shrewdness being his forte.

"Right! Spread out you guys. Bulma, take care of these," Goku interjected, while throwing the sensu beans at Bulma.

With that objective taken care of, all Goku needed to do was address his group. "Now remember, if you come in contact with the androids don't engage them. Flare you ki, wait for the others to come and assist you!"

Goku eyed Krillen before responding address him specifically. "Krillen, go after Yajirobe. Make sure he's okay and get him out of the general battlefield."

The battle cry of "let's go!" from Piccolo was all the group needed to start their search. Everyone knew what to do, took to the skies in different directions trying to scope out the androids location on their own.

* * *

I was on the north-west side of the main marina when I heard the explosion of the hover-car. I was well aware of the significance of the explosion and the dire position I was in.

I was surrounded by skyscrapers that gave my enemy vantage points from all sides without sacrificing their visibility. To make matter worse, I couldn't even use the surrounding streets to flank my adversary. I was dead in the open. This wasn't good.

Then I stopped, took a deep breath and realized the absurdity of my panic. The androids and Z-fighters couldn't track me, my ki is undetectable unless I will it. That isn't even considering that they aren't looking for me, they're looking for their each other.

Closing my eyes to center my focus on the task at hand, I remembered the six step plan to any successful assassination or hostage rescue/capture mission: Set the main diversion, secure vantage point for observation, execute diversion, locate target, assassinate target/retrieve hostage(may be more complicated due to extra objectives), and exfiltrate.

It's never should be easy to complete any step in the six step formula; always expect that you will run into complications. Nevertheless, this place was too perfect for a diversion. There were so many angles of site from so many places, you couldn't go forward(due to the marina), backward, or to the left without being in plane view. If you did go right then your entering my element: tiny, narrow alleyways and convoluted street patterns.

Now, to set my diversion. Conjuring with pure ki what appeared to be almost microscopic particles of C4, but with much more destructive potential in a larger blast radius. It turns out that the compression of these explosives help their destructive potential, most likely due to them being more tightly packed with their explosive material.

To disperse these mini-explosives all that needs to be required is a target proverbially painted with my ki and a small gale of wind. The ki target was support structures of three skyscrapers in my direct line of sight, plus simulating a gale of wind with ki is pretty rudimentary control exercise.

Part two proved to be a much more difficult task. Their were dozens of skyscrapers in the downtown region, and none gave him an optimum angle.

I was muttering under my breath about ideal vantage points, subconsciously dissecting possible choices. My mind was made up the minute I saw what was across the marina.

The building itself was very...recognizable. It was actually three building thats were connected together at the top by one slab of stone that was carved in the shape of a boat. However, it was only one spot on the boat that interested me: the bow.

It offered multiple advantageous opportunities. One, it was crowded with people, most likely being tourists that would suppress any sound I'd make. Two, it offered a view of the battlefield with significant lines of sights at the marina and the corresponding road around the marina. Three, if I needed to escape I could disappear through one of the ocean-side balconies into the main building.

Wasting no time, I used the Instant Transmission technique to teleport myself directly to the bow of the pseudo-ship.

My first impression of the bow was that it was wide open, crowded with people, and hardly an ideal location for an assassination. It held all the check marks for a touristic observation deck. I needed these denizens to extradite themselves from the premises immediately. Simple task. The minute they see my diversion the last thing any of them will be looking at will be me.

Now to find that ideal angle. I knew that the center of the bow wouldn't be a good idea, too much chaos would reign after my diversion. After I shuffled my way through the crowd towards the outer perimeter, probably erected to prevent some idiot from wandering their way straight off of the cliff, was all it took to find my location.

Finding it was easy, but it would take some...dexterity to get comfortable during the reconnaissance and assassination in that position. I would be required to lock my legs together and dangle off the observation deck similar to the way a bat clings to position in a cave.

Nevertheless, it was only a matter of waiting for an ideal opportunity to execute my diversion. Once that step was clear, well then it would just be come what may.

Chances are also very common occurrences. This case wasn't an exception by any means, but exactly the rule. I noticed one of the human Z-fighters ki dropped drastically, and to me that was enough of an excuse to execute my diversion. Send both the Z-fighters and the androids running directly into each other, while sparring that human weakling.

Not even wasting a second of time, I released my ki hold on those mini C4 explosives. These timed explosives would explode and send those skyscraper screeching to the ground.

It would become self-evident that it was time to see if this city would rise from the ashes, or fall in a torrent of flames. Everyone ones of us, both my allies and my enemies know it is time for action, nor was it a time for anymore hollow words.

* * *

Yamcha was like everybody else. He was lost and didn't possess a clue on how to find these androids. After blowing up Yajirobe's car they just vanished and didn't leave a trace behind.

He had look almost everywhere in his district of the city, and always ended up in this heavily crowded square.

Exasperated, but not going to give up without a fight. He looks both ways in the square for any abnormalities. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary he simply chooses a direction to run to.

This direction takes him towards an alleyway that looks completely empty. Now showing visible frustration he exclaims. "This is nuts, I don't even know what I'm looking for."

However, Yamcha clearly forgot one of fates golden rules. The more you wish for something, the more likely it's something you won't get it or will regret it later on. In Yamcha's case, it's the later of the two.

After clearing the alleyway, he hears an absolute deafening scream. Clearly, assuming it to be the androids, he runs off into the direction of the voice.

Once there, it becomes obvious that the androids were responsible. An innocent pedestrian was laying at the base of the building out cold, most likely due to the collision with the building where an crater had formed almost ten feet above.

He saw another person clearly harmed by the androids. He had beaten until he lost consciousness and was laying supine on the sidewalk with blood pooling out of his head.

In the street there was a car with an obvious hole under the driver seat. It didn't take a genius to figure out that somebody was ripped through the car's roof and tossed haphazardly somewhere. The car's engine was also outside of its usual place, and instead was in front of the car on the street.

The evidence was all around him, but he still needed to witness to confirm the location of the androids.

Yamcha notices a human being hiding rather poorly behind a gas station dispenser. Trying to get his attention fails; he runs off before Yamcha can even address him.

Yamcha turns towards the damaged building and identifies two people staring out the window. "Hey, you two."

Both of the two nameless witness's recoiled under Yamcha's words, neither particularly understanding why they were addressed.

Yamcha, having not heard their incoherent muttering continues his questioning. "Did you see what happened to these people? Who did this?"

Waking up from their stupor, both nameless witness's reply to Yamcha's question.

"Their were two of them," said the first witness, but before he could get any farther he was interrupted by the second witness.

The second witness, visibly flustered replied. "They just came out of nowhere, and just zapped everybody...and then just disappeared."

"Just disappeared," was all Yamcha could mutter, easily perturbed by this revelation.

Quickly catching his bearing, he looked across both sides of the street trying to catch the location of the androids. He however didn't look in the most obvious location: above.

"I must have just missed them. I better go back and tell the others," said Yamcha, not liking what he was seeing.

Unwisely calming down, he questions his former panic. "Hey, wait a sec. What's the point in telling the others? I haven't found them yet."

At that exact second, he hears footsteps just behind him. Turning around he sees two more figures staring at him blankly.

Having not figured out who they were, he attempts to communicates to them. "Hey, be careful you two. There are a couple of androids on the loose and they mean business!"

After looking at their appearance he realizes the truth. He swiftly back up and screams, in vain, " I found them!"

It was to late for Yamcha to defend himself. Just after he flares his Ki one of the androids latches his palm directly on Yamcha's mouth. Yamcha, feeling himself grow weaker tries futility to remove the android hand. It doesn't work, the android is simply to strong for him.

However, right before all is lost for Yamcha the diversion is executed.

* * *

**I have re-formatted my story to make it easier to follow along with a more riveting start. Starting off with a long existential monologue was probably not the smartest decision, nevertheless here is the edited version!**

**"Happiness is pretty squalid in comparison to over-compensations for misery. People aren't interested in inert tranquility moreso than a good ole' battle against temptation, fate or anything else. In short, happiness is never grand. "****  
**


	2. Introduction to the End

Cacophony. Oh what a word it is─especially now that it personifies the scene around and below me.

South City's skyline has been irreparably damaged; it's like a shark took a bite out of it. The smoke obscures the final remains of the former structure, but every human being on the balcony can see the writing on the wall: all of their lives are in question now.

As for me, it's always hard to believe that just one chain of explosions is all it takes to destroy a once proud ensemble of skyscrapers.

* * *

Twenty minutes before, when all of South City still retained their collective innocence, Takehiro and Yuuri were just average members of the maintenance crew of Takedo Industries doing their normal rounds.

That didn't mean that they weren't prone to idle chat.

"I'll tell ya' Takehiro; I've never seen a more stupid movie," said Yuuri, clearly amused at his thought's.

"What'd you expect? The title refers to the after-effects of an alcoholic binge. Did you expect a thought-provoking movie?"

"What do you know about it Takehiro. You haven't even seen the movie I'm talking about!"

"Of course I haven't. However, you've just said it was a stupid movie, and even a chimpanzee carrying a set of cymbals could figure that out from the title."

"Oh screw you Takehiro," cursed Yuuri, flipping him off as he walked ahead of him.

Takehiro didn't verbally respond. He just flashed the `loser` gesture at the edge of Yuuri's vision, which propelled him to respond yet again.

"Don't you have work to do, Takehiro," remarked Yuuri snidely.

"Of course I do, and so do you if you haven't forgotten. Unlike you however, I can recognize when I'm walking in the wrong direction." With that, Takehiro turned to the left and continued towards the generator room on his own.

"Shit. Motherfucking shit," said Yuuri, whipping his head around orientating himself to find his surroundings. He was in the wrong place and had indeed gone in the wrong direction. He waited a few seconds to belt out a string of consecutive curses before running ahead to find Takehiro.

While Yuuri was being lost, Takehiro had already arrived in one of the numerous generator rooms. The cold gray stone and almost sterile level of cleanliness never ceased to depress him; it was dungeon moreso than a workplace.

Takehiro didn't waste any time finding the pièce de résistance of this particular generator room: A state-of-the-art air-conditioning module connected to the main building's ventilation infrastructure, which was in turn connected to every auxiliary building in the compound.

Lifting the hatch, Takehiro removed a portion of the outer wall of the module exposing its underbelly. There wasn't much to look if you were electronically illiterate; a hodgepodge of wires, switches, and fans choreographed in a shoddy manner.

Unfortunately, Takehiro wasn't electronically illiterate. He quickly caught an abnormality: an egregious lump of...something at the back of the structure. Whatever it is, he sure didn't like it.

Right before Takehiro could attempt to pry the foreign body from the machine, Yuuri finally found his way to the generator room.

Yuuri walked slowly to Takehiro with a grin of a cheshire cat. "Takehiro, so this is where you went. How rude! To leave a friend like you did; the nerve!"

"Yes Yuuri, I'm an awful no horrible person. Now shut up. Unlike you, I actually have to work right now," responded Takehiro dismissively.

"Oh, whatever that might be Takehiro?"

"A strange substance from within the air-conditioning module," said Takehiro, who was subtly showing signs of displeasure at Yuuri's constant questioning.

However, Yuuri had stopped listening. Instead he was peering into the module, and he noticed it the problem quickly as well.

"What the hell is that...thing."

"I don't know Yuuri. Whatever the thing is, it shouldn't be there."

"Then let me remove it." Takehiro couldn't respond in time. Yuuri was already trying to remove the foreign substance from the central module.

Yuuri's hands were already soaked with sweat as he encircled the object with scissors. It was protocol: surround, sever and remove.

Fate had a different plan. His scissors slipped through his hands and punctured the foreign object.

Boom. The object's untapped volatile energy now had an escape route─right through Yuuri's face. Not before dissolving his arms; melting his nose, ears, and eyes; and finally charring his lungs and heart.

In short: Yuuri was dead before he hit the ground.

The explosion in a matter of seconds engulfed the air-conditioning modules circuitry in flames that spread to the outer metallic wall. The intense heat of the flames caused the wall to expand and flex; it was buckling alarmingly fast.

Snap. The force tore apart the metal casing, sending it through the air like exploding shrapnel. Unfortunately for Takehiro, one of these shards lodged itself through the bridge of nose directly into his brain. It was safe to say that he was dead.

However, he wouldn't rest in peace. His corpse was ripped through the air and dragged into the wall diagonally above him, breaking concrete and caving in the roof.

The flames of the burning room crept through the hole into the office space, burning through everything in its path. The malignant heat burned through paper; melted file cabinet's; and igniting the ink in printer's for numerous somewhat timed explosions, shattering glass and ripping through human flesh. Then they went off to the next floor and the next after in sequence.

The sonic boom reverberated through the air conditioning ducts, tearing holes in the sheet metal lining throughout the building and shaking the building's steel frame.

The progressive wave of explosions, fire and shattering windows raced up the superstructure. 10th floor; 20th floor; 50th floor or 100th floor, it keeps on ascending up its metal frame. The feeble and terrified people in the structure scream as the fires melt their skin, while the more foolhardy human's fling themselves from the building to fall to their deaths.

Chunks of metal and glass rain down on the pedestrian hunkered under crushed car. They watch as their fellow humans crash into the unforgiving asphalt, body parts shattered like a decorated piece of porcelain.

The ascent of flames breaks. Another explosion tore through the top stories of the skyscraper; much greater is scope than anything before it. Flames diffuse; explosion's suffocating any usable air, and eviscerated all solid structures.

No steel frame remains; it was melted beyond any form of recognition. So what's going to hold up the top of the skyscraper? The answer: wherever the wind blows!

Unfortunately for the structure, the wind was bad that day. Fifty mile per hour gusts at five-hundred feet. Whatever the speed it was, it was enough.

At this moment…no, at that exact moment, what was once a singular fall of three skyscrapers became united for one grand symphony.

The winds dislodge the husk of steel, aluminum and glass that was the top of each skyscraper. Each husk collapsed toward one central avenue at the same epicenter like sharp-pointed harpoons, desiring to pierce the flesh of its incoming target.

The edges of all of them meet and thrust into each other at the same time. The penetration is not enough to compensate for their length. The combined shaft extends over the boulevard completely, where the bases of each are still lodged in the each respective skyscraper.

So, here we have a battle. Who'd win: the momentum of the falling husks or the strained remains of the skyscraper? I'll give you hint: pick the former!

Each floor collapses and compacted itself upon itself. All three skyscrapers begin the descent down towards tragedy and ruin.

Fifty floors to go. A debris field rains from the heavens dotting the road and sidewalk with craters, while crushing cars and any humans foolish enough not to run.

Twenty floor to go. A column of smoke ascends into the sky, as dazzling as a falling comet about to crash land.

Ten floors to go. The smoke gets so thick that the buildings fade from sight, invisible as they crash into the unbidden earth.

Impact. It's over. The buildings are no more, just rumble and ruins. The smoke that was once a tail had appeared to condense into a ball and explode like a supernova, pushing humans and solid matter hundreds of feet, some even into belly of the nearby marina.

All the buildings around ground zero haven't survived unscathed. Most of the building lay cracked with craters, have lost all their windows, or even in the worst cases collapsed themselves.

To put the top the cherry on top of the `shit sundae,' the shockwave of the explosion tore through and ruptured all the gas lines in downtown South City. In other words, nobody was going to escape without being burned.

* * *

It's a funny thing. The burning skeleton of buildings, roads and cars, sequestering the few survivors of my attack, pleading for a hope they are dreading will never come. Just as building's burn, so does the spirit of men.

The humans that didn't make it; the ones crushed under tons of rock. I have to, for my own sake, remember that they didn't deserve the life that they were born with.

They choose, even without knowing, to succumb to the will of the most malignant force on Earth. They signed a pack with my devil, and they deserve to burn for it. They worked for or one of the subsidiaries of Gaikan, Inc: The devil incognito.

Uh, I need to say focused. Remembering…that name…makes me far too angry to think clearly, it clouds my judgment and makes me prey to a cunning enemy.

That being said, I've got a job to do.

I grabbed hold of the safety rail and hurdled over it, switching the placement of my hands on the rail so that my feet land succinctly on the outer tangible edge of the balcony.

I shuffled my feet across the perimeter of the balcony, creeping closer to the center point. When I got to the point, I moved my arms down to the outer edge and let my feet dangle off the edge of the balcony precariously.

Not wasting a moment, I looked down over the marina and the burning city. It was hard trying to find the optimum angle. It's in the best cases a very laborious activity. That said, trying to find angles out of thin air always is.

Then, and only then, did I discover it. It was definitely out of thin air that was for sure. It was fifteen feet below me and in enough shadows to conceal me from prying eyes. Perfect.

Now for the harder question: where can I find a platform out of mid-air? Oh wait a minute, I'm really am getting dull. Did I just forget I could conjure objects from my ki?

I manipulated my ki to solidify itself. I bended my solid ki into steel cables that interlocked themselves into the safety rails of the balcony, and then connected the cables to another conjured grated steel platform that swayed back and forth from the wind.

With preparations complete, I let go of the edge and backflipped onto the platform, using my ki has an adhesive to keep me stabilized on the violently shaking platform.

Now, for the fun part of this game: the hunt. However, what's a hunter without a gun? Not me, for sure!

I rummaged through my synthetic uniform to find out where I placed my rifle. Left pocket? Nope. Right pocket? Nope again. 'Where did I put that stupid thing?'

`Oh, eureka. In my inner pocket, how could I have ever forgotten it there? It's where I put all of my valuables.'

After having pulled it through my uniform you wouldn't think it was a gun. Just a small little capsule, but we all know what could be in those mystic things.

Clicking on the top of the capsule, I was delighted to see a small puff of smoke and my rifle in three parts: butt, barrel, and trigger handle.

After assembling the ensemble of machinery, the last thing to do was place a clip of ammunition into the muzzle. I grabbed another capsule and used it to release my ki charge ammunition.

I clicked the ammunition into the loader and cocked the gun, and flicked off the safety. I zoomed in towards epicenter of the disaster zone, waiting for Dr. Gero to show up.

Assassination is my specialty; my main battle passion. To _feel _the rush of knowing that the enemies head is blown clear off, and that they _didn't _even know it. They couldn't prepare even their own death, just here one moment and the next gone. The ultimate service to our inevitable fate: death.

Why use a sniper rifle? Why use something so…proliferated and mundane to kill one of the world's greatest mad scientist's. Simple: to defy.

To defy that a sniper rifle is useless, to defy common expectations, but most importantly defy reality.

That and besides, only I know how useful my sniper rifle is. What other tools or techniques are there that can condense Ki into bullets that create an untraceable explosion of energy? Can anything else let me stockpile excess Ki in my system to create ammunition? To me, it's one of those things that can win wars.

Nevertheless, all that can be done now is to wait for the inevitable confrontation of Z-Fighters and androids.

* * *

Yamcha grasped Dr Gero's arm, trying in vain to remove it from his mouth. He felt his Ki just taper out of his body like water from a faucet, flowing from his body to Dr. Gero's. He couldn't withstand much more, not with his vision fading in and out like it was now.

Then it happened. His dropping eyes and almost deaf ears caught the explosion. He stood by in horror as he feebly witnessed the collapse of the skyscrapers, eyes watering at the heartlessness of the androids.

Dr. Gero saw the panic and animosity of Yamcha's countenance, and flashed him a smirk foretelling concentrated malice.

Android Nineteen then spoke up, with a sickeningly high pitched tone. "That must have been Vegeta, yes Twenty?"

"No, that couldn't have been Vegeta," said Dr. Gero, with a callous indifference. "Vegeta wouldn't destroy a building without shouting something about the `might of the Saiyan race' of some other nonsense. No it must have been are…other visitor."

"Twenty, should I eliminate are new friend?"

"No, that won't be necessary Nineteen. I will take care of this new threat myself," said Gero, before completing his comment. "C20, come out and meet your creator!"

Appearing from out of the woodwork was another…Gero. He looked exactly like him, virtually no significant differences in appearance or mannerisms were readily apparent. He was good enough replica to fool anybody.

"C20, accompany Android Nineteen to the disaster zone. You will be sure to run into Goku and his friends there. Kill him, and make sure he feels pain."

The replica android just nodded before walking towards the fallen skyscrapers, with Android Nineteen in tow.

Gero looks down on the hapless body of Yamcha, lying supine on ground struggling to remain conscious. Peering down at the fallen warrior and saying nothing, Dr. Gero fires a Ki blast at his stomach; one that Yamcha has no hope of stopping.

Piccolo was flustered, no, frustrated was the better word. The androids came, blew up Yajirobe's car and then disappeared again into the shadows. Just vanished, no energy signal, foot prints, sightings, or flaring Ki. One minute they were here and the next minute they were gone.

This spot should be ideal for somebody like Dr. Gero. It was crowded, it was in the city center and most importantly it could be seen from thousands of people at nearly all angles. `So why wasn't he here?'

Spike. `What was that? Yamcha just flared his Ki and then it dissipated almost in the same number of milliseconds.' Assuming the worst, Piccolo flares his Ki around him preparing to take flight.

"Yamcha, I'm coming don't do anything stupid in the meantime," mumbled Piccolo, before blasting into the air to find Yamcha.

It was obvious he wasn't the only one who felt it. Goku, Krillen and Tien were all flying in the same direction to the same place. After a few seconds of thought, Piccolo descended towards them.

Then, it happened. A sonic roar belts out from behind them, shrieking like one of the devil's tempests. All three turn around to see three skyscrapers in flames with the top portions about to collapse. Before they could even think to react the skyscrapers were already rubble.

Goku was clenching his teeth, trying to stop his anger from overwhelming him. "Those monsters! Why kill these innocent people, don't they have any conscious?"

Krillen and Tien were just as angry, but even moreso terrified about facing these androids. They knew they stood no chance and were at the mercy of Goku or these remorseless monsters.

However, before fear and panic overwhelmed the group, Goku spoke up to quell the fear. "Krillen, go back to the plateau and get Bulma out of harm's way. Tien, find Yamcha and get him out of harm's way as well, preferably with Bulma though."

"Okay, Goku," responded Tien, before blasting off in the same direction as they were going to.

Krillen was a bit more hesitant as he was a bit more afraid. Nevertheless, he broke out of his stupor and blasted off to the east to find Bulma.

Goku turned his head to Piccolo. "Piccolo, follow me and make sure to watch my back."

Piccolo didn't respond and just let himself follow Goku to the crash site. He knew that this would be it. There wasn't any turning back for him.

Staying still is never easy. It requires patience, skill and most importantly time. If you can't understand when to attack and when to wait, then losing the battles are almost imminent.

`That doesn't make it any easier though, especially when your seven-and-a-half and more jittery than hummingbird.'

However, moments like these are one of the few times that I'm glad about what I am. A half-breed: one half saiyan, but also one-half ethereal.

What's an ethereal? It's a trick question: outside of me they don't exist. Just a word I use to describe the inconsistencies in my genetics. By birth, I'm half-saiyan and half-human, but many things that exist about me just don't fit either mold.

For example, there isn't a human or saiyan child in the world regardless of genius that could solve differential equations before they turned one year old. No human or saiyan child could ever be trained warrior before they were six months old, it simply isn't possible. No Human or Saiyan looks like they're five years old before they're even a month old.

Yet, I'm each and every one of those things. I can't even begin to understand it for myself, but more biological differences just keep on coming up, so I've deduced that these irregularities are characteristic of what I call an Ethereal.

`It's unfortunate, though; me being what I am. I could only imagine what many people would do to acquire what I was born with, but there's something thats even more disheartening: If I could, I would give them what I have. I don't care, they can take my power, prestige and authority; it doesn't matter to me.'

However, that won't happen, I'm what I am and that won't change. `If anything is going to change I have to instigate it. I have to be change I can believe in.'

'To survive, I have to be in control of who lives and who dies, and the only way for me to be in control is for me to blow Dr. Gero's head clean off.'

And I can see that the opportunity is now. Alea Iacta Est

Goku and Piccolo descended down towards the rubble and land on one of the only debris-free parts of the boulevard. The androids weren't there and nowhere in sight, to the chagrin of them both.

"Goku, be sharp. They can be coming from anywhere, and you shouldn't need to hear it from me, but they aren't going to be below firing a cheap shot."

Goku turned his head in a pensive gesture at Piccolo. "I'm aware, Piccolo. Just make sure that these people are safe."

"How very noble of you, Goku, but you shouldn't worry about those vermin down there. In reality, you should be much more concerned about yourself."

Both Piccolo and Goku's eyes locked onto the marina-side esplanade where the two voices were heard. The two shadowy figures were obviously the androids: one of them had the Red Ribbon insignia on his head, and the other looked like a machine to begin with.

Goku tensed up and shifted into a fighting stance, with his eyes focusing on the center of each android.

Both androids noticed this and the Nineteen started to giggle softly, irritating Piccolo and Goku to no end.

"I wouldn't worry about defending yourself from us Goku. When we kill you, you won't even know how we did. The only thing you should know is that it will be…_moderately _painful," responded C20, smirking with patented bloodlust.

Goku bristled at that comment, not just at the malice but at the subtle jab at his pride. "I wouldn't count on it, android. I don't think you understand what it will take to beat me."

C20 just slyly smiled at Goku. "Of course we know what it takes to beat you. We've been tracking your progress and your techniques for a long time."

Goku rolls his eyes at the arrogance of these androids. "Oh really, you know _everything _about me. My birthday, all of my techniques, my fears, and who I've beaten."

"Yes. We tracked you from your participation in the Twenty-Second Budokai through the Twenty-Third Bukokai, the arrival of Raditz, and your battles with Vegeta and Nappa. Yes, we _do _know everything about you."

Goku eyes widen and eyebrows rise in incredulity. `Did these androids really not bother to track him down in space?'

Piccolo's reaction was a bit more subdued, but he was in just as much disbelief. The difference was that Piccolo wasn't going to stay silent about their mistake. "So, you didn't track Goku's fight throughout space, did you?"

"No, by then we were confident that we had all the data that we'd ever need to kill Goku. Of course, we predicted he'd continue to grow more powerful so we adjusted are power levels to reflect this."

Piccolo then started to laugh rather obnoxiously, infuriating both androids. "So, you didn't predict that he'd become a super saiyan then?"

"Super saiyan?" responded C20 in an inquisitive manner.

Goku didn't keep the androids waiting. He belted out a scream as his Ki coils enlarged and he changed form. In a flash of light, his hair became a vibrant shade of gold and his eyes became piercing turquoise.

C20, like his creator wasn't scared of the theatrics, but was a bit surprised. "I'll admit that we weren't expecting something like this, but rest assured we are still very prepared for such an encounter. Why don't you show him Nineteen."

Android Nineteen charged at Goku aiming a punch at his adam's apple, but Goku just stared at the incoming punch unflinchingly. At the last second, he grabbed Nineteen's wrist and extended it forward towards his own body to create leverage to bury his knee in Nineteen's solar plexus and a simultaneous uppercut to the chin. To finish his attack, Goku pivoted his hips to level him with a devastating roundhouse kick on the android's flank sending him flying into the rubble.

Goku adjusted his leg back into proper form and exhaled before commenting. "Is that all you got? I expected somebody stronger!"

C20's glare became malignant, promising future pain. "Wait and see, Goku, you will regret ̶"

A loud popping sound reverberated through the air careening towards the standoff. A silent projectile tore through the air burying itself in C20's skull, before igniting an explosion from within his skull tearing apart everything within the cranial cavity.

In short: C20 would need a new head; he had just been beheaded.

* * *

The shot was too easy. My target was being cooperative, giving me a clear shot at his temporal lope. No distinctly brisk gust of wind, no significant humidity. There was nothing to impede my shot but the simple physics of hitting the target.

I started to hold my breath and steady my hands. `Don't choke and blow the shot or we could be dealing with a much messier situation.' I slipped my index finger under the trigger and slowly pushed it down.

Pop. The bullet is relinquished from the hold of the barrel and is propelled across the marina towards Dr. Gero. Impact. `We have a hit and an explosion, the wicked wrench of the west is dead! It serves you right, yah megalomaniac!'

Then I look closer at the scene. `His head was just solid metal, silicone circuitry, and oil. That wasn't Gero, it was an imposter. Where is that fucker!?'

In my periphery, a Ki blast collides into the outer edge of the balcony, incinerating it completely along with dislodging the cables to my sniping platform.

My viewing platform violently buckles below me, appearing to awkwardly creak and crack before snapping into two pieces and falling into the harbor. Fortunately, I had already leaped off before its descent and was side-stepping my way through the debris field created by the attack.

Speaking of the attack, the perpetrator was being veiled by falling debris so I couldn't see him; didn't stop him from firing more ki attacks at the debris, though.

Using the falling metal as cover, I jutted through the debris narrowly avoiding his encroaching Ki attacks and the exploding shrapnel of all the pyrotechnics. Each time, he got closer and closer, but you know what they say: close, but no cigar.

Eventually, I got towards the end of the debris line. I needed to find a way to get close to the window ceil of the building to my left and quick. At the last boulder in the column, I latched on tight and kick my legs onto the surface of the stone. Coiling like a spring and then releasing with the same kind of energy, I propelled myself across the open space before landing abruptly in the window ceil.

The landing was abrasive; the collision cracked the glass window which apparently was un-tempered glass, lacerating both of my arms with shallow cuts, but didn't hit my radial vein fortunately.

By this time, the perpetrator of the attack left the shadows of the smoke to confront me directly. `With the smoke and shadows un-obscured I feel stupid for not connecting the dots: it was Dr. Gero. Drat, I should have known it was him.'

The mad doctor proceeded towards me, callous indifference plastered on his face. However, I just…felt something under the surface. "I see you've come. That's good; all according to plan."

I snort at the comment, taking issue with him thinking I can be controlled by him. "If your plan is for me to wrench your head from your neck, than yes you can say things are going to plan."

"Of course, you say that now, but I don't think you will be saying that for long. You're overestimating yourself thinking you can beat me."

I start to snicker at his comment, unintentional irony laced throughout that statement; the kind of irony that I feel the need to mock straight to his face. "Oh, you mean how you were _so _prepared to combat Goku. Oh wait, you weren't!"

Dr. Gero just smiles slightly, showing no mirth, just dark muse. "Goku's transformation is a complication, but nothing we can't handle, and so are you. You can't win, you are—"

My hand just started to talk for him. I pressed my thumb to my other fingers in the universally recognized talking hand gesture. "Yep, yep. Keep talkin. What my hand is saying is just as important as what was coming out of your mouth."

Dr. Gero stopped talking and just maliciously glared at me, showing the early signs of losing this argument. Satisfied with pissing him off, I put my hand down to return to business.

"Sorry, Gero, not my fault that you can't take a little taunting." Irritating Gero was just _too _amusing.

"I can take taunting; just know that I'll get the ultimate satisfaction of using your cells for my goals," said Dr. Gero, still subtly smirking at me.

"So, that was your hand. Using my cells for your pet project, but sorry about your assumptions based on false-pretenses. You _think _you can kill me, but you can't.

"That's where your wrong, Seinshin. Yes, I do know your name: Seinshin Gaikan-Son. I've tracked you since birth, your family trusted me to give you the _best _of what science and politics can give. I'm sure that you would agree with my choices?"

My hand cleaves through the aluminum that I was gripping on. Sheer anger coursed through my vein at the…_nerve _of that bastard. "I hope that isn't your idea of a sick joke, because if it is than something more...grotesque than a beheading is in order!"

Dr. Gero started to chuckle softly at my distress, his subtle mocking piercing through my self-control. "Oh, you think that your feelings mattered. They haven't, nor did they ever have. What's in your heart, could easily tell you what I think of you. No, it was all about making you the strongest I could, so I could end up using you in the end. Now I can begin building my ultimate android."

A violent heart palpitation rips through my body at that moment, cleaving its way through every nerve and fiber of my being. Then, it vanishes before it barely begun. Not good. Just being _alluded _to its presence aggravated it. Gero wasn't going to get away with this. "Yes, but as I've said, what are you going to do about it. I'm stronger than you, and the only thing you're going to get is a boot straight up your ass."

Gero breaks into a full smirk, one you'd find adorned to the infamous Cheshire cat. "I wouldn't bet on that Seinshin. I just let you taunt me, but you didn't see my retaliation. If you did, you wouldn't be still running your mouth at me. I'm genuinely curious how you plan to even touch me without your transformative abilities?

An undercurrent breaks through me. `How? Where did he learn that? Got to remain cool and dig through and for information.' "Aw, I don't believe you or a word you say. So, how about you prove what you say or I'm going to assume your _expert _opinion is worth about as much as a well-used latrine."

"It's your choice to believe what you want. Just know that I've locked away your powers and you are helpless against me. It would be in your best interests to come quietly."

"Here's where you are wrong Gero: you think this is about power levels. Who has the bigger one wins. Well, here's some truth for you: don't underestimate me or you've already lost this one, damn what your scanners say!"

Before anybody could react, I fired a blast of ki directly at Gero, but had it curve at the last second into floor directly above him. I used the smoke created from the explosion to jump into the burning structure and run inside disappearing from Gero and his lackies.

* * *

Goku didn't understand what just happened. One second he was trading jabs with Android 20, and the next his head was blown off. Is there another threat here that Trunk's didn't mention? Whatever it was, he'd have to stay aware.

Android 19 had just gotten out of the rubble pile, ruffed up a bit but no worse for wear. However, seeing his fellow androids without a head and Goku's arm outstretched was a bit too much for him. He backed up, fear reflected in his robotic eyes that were all too obvious.

That was until Nineteen came to his senses. For him to take care of Gero's plan for world domination he'd have to kill Goku; there was no other way. He silenced the fear in his eyes and replaced it with subconscious malice, as he prepared to lunge at Goku's throat.

Catching the change in the android's demeanor just in time, Goku scooted out of the way of Nineteen's path. The human-bred warrior then grabbed his enemies hamstring and threw him into the air. Goku charged after the falling android and slammed a karate chop into his neck sending him flying into a ferris wheel at the far end of the marina esplanade.

The collision caused the ferris wheel to collapse and send the amusement park ride into a massive boneyard littered with scrap metal burying Nineteen at the center. Not letting the menace rest, our hero gathers a large output of Ki to obliterate the scrap metal (including 19) into dust. Only a grunt of exertion is heard as the ki is launched at Nineteen.

As the destructive wave detonates on the boneyard, a sole red-tinged hand pierces through the ki and sucks it all way. What was once a fearsome attack was now a Ki boost for the villain.

Goku watches the smoke clear from his attack, confident that it was enough to put the android down. No dice, the android was smirking mockingly at him. How did he escape without a scratch?

Not pondering on his thoughts (assuming he has any), Android 19 flashes in front of the saiyan and levels a powerful jab right into the stomach, followed by an attempted left hook to the face.

Attempted was the key word. Although the jab caused Goku to expel blood, it didn't stop him from countering the left hook with a forceful smack with his bicep. Sensing an opportunity to strike with Nineteen out of position, our hero kicked the android in shin and smashed its chin with an uppercut with his elbow.

The android jumped out of the fray after getting elbowed in the nose. After checking for any damage, he detonates a Ki attack in front of Goku's face. Using the smokescreen as cover, the villain tries to unleash a volley of punches at Goku's mid-section.

Key word: tries. For all of the speed of his cumbersome foe, the Earth's protector weaved his way through every punch not showing any modicum of effort. Unwilling to keep up this charade any longer, Goku creates an explosive dome of Ki that succeeds in blowing away the android for a split second.

Goku phased out of the sight and dropkicked Android 19 into the ground. He prepared to fire off another concentrated mega-blast to finish off his foe, but flinched as an arm wraps itself around his neck. The hand latched onto his mouth and started to slowly suck away ki.

Unlike Yamcha, though, Goku was too strong for this doppelganger. After bashing his head against the androids for a split second, the android was forced into letting go of its hold on Goku's mouth. Refusing to give any more breaks, our hero turns around and clocks him with a devastating right hook, such a powerful right hook that it beheads the cloned-android on sight. Unfortunately, Goku could see that it was just another Android Twenty clone.

However, Android Nineteen had already recovered from his own drubbing by this time. Sensing an opportunity to attack while his opponents guard was down, he charged like a mad dog at Goku.

He was so close to hitting him, so close. That was until he felt another force, which was Piccolo phasing behind him to grab him at the ankle and use his superior leverage to throw him into the marina.

Piccolo resettles in a Ki gather position: Legs straight and right index and middle fingers in position at the crest of his forehead. In a matter of second, Piccolo's fingers are in position and the power up is complete. He is ready to chant the infamous phrase: "Special Beam Cannon!"

A forceful spiraling beam erupts from his fingertip, ready to pierce and carve through everything on its way.

Android 19 looks at the beam with a soft sense of anticipation. At the last second, like the last time, he sucks away the entire reservoir of Ki in the beam before anybody could react.

This doesn't mean anything changed, in fact everything did. Goku and Piccolo both saw how Android 19 neutralized the Ki like it was nothing.

"Darnit. Piccolo, we can't use anymore Ki attacks on him. They just feed him energy," said an aggravated Goku.

"I'm well aware, Goku," coolly responded Piccolo, who underneath it was seething inside.

It just got worse for the dynamic duo. An incoming dark cloud of android-clones just dropped from out of the sky to aid the outmatched 19.

At the center of this militia of androids was the sick smile of Android 19, just pleased with how things were turning out. He was the proud beneficiary of an army and couldn't be prouder.

However, things weren't meant to be. A spectral phantom appeared on the battlefield, it's entire being clouded by darkness. The only clear thing was that its right arm was outstretched.

The dark tranquility of the specter wasn't permanent. A maelstrom of energy reared its ugly head from the lone palm of the specter, swirling air and violently expelling it all around. The epicenter of the maelstrom was a shiny mass, but one that held no warmth, just rage and contempt of its surroundings.

The shiny orb became so bright that it revealed the form of its creator: a powerful black-haired man with a hardly veiled grin on his face, one that displays obnoxious arrogance and a firmly rooted killing intent.

The specter vanishes as a brilliant cloud of yellow permeates from the saiyan, enveloping him with a greater power than he had ever felt. The rush of the power goes straight to his head and his mouth as well; he apparently couldn't stop cackling in mad glee.

However, his power up eventually dissipated from sight and a pseudo-stasis swept through the battlefield. However, nobody believed it would last, least of all The Prince of All Saiyans.

Eventually, the Prince stopped his mad cackling to smirk in contempt at the androids. "So, this is Gero's killing machines? Pathetic, all of you, including you too Kakarot; killing these things should've been simple affair. It doesn't matter; all of you will die by my hand in the end. You should consider yourselves lucky; it's a privilege to be the first to die by my super-saiyan prowess. Now, fools, say it with me: Big. Bang. Attack."

Vegeta's signature explosive ball roars away from its maker, fully intent on incinerating every android in the vicinity. Its detonation is a sight to behold: a fire ball that vaporizes all life forms of machinery within the blast radius. The explosion is so loud, that no words could express the din that barraged everybody's ears. In other words, the name big bang attack is aptly warranted.

When the smoke cleared, the armies of androids were gone. Not even a smoldering remain was left in the marina.

* * *

Seek and destroy. It's the ultimate fate of all battles: The intrepid hunters scouring an unknown land looking for one other, no doubt looking to send the other to a gruesome end. Gero and I are in no different predicament than any other before us, just two more hunters in pursuit of prey. It's only a matter of whose head will be on the mantle.

Subconsciously, we both know the killzone is this (at least it seems) hotel. Blowing it to smithereens will do neither of us any good. One way or another, we both want the other to kneel at our feet.

I hold my breath, peering out of my make-do sniper perch. It wasn't in the greatest location: a conference room with a large transparent window and virtually no cover but one massive oak desk. However I should count my blessings. I was lucky that I wasn't pursued or fired at while traversing those unknown corridors, some being completely exposed with multiple lines of sight.

Getting to the room was the hard part, making it accommodating for me was easy. Open the window, place the sniping perch in the shadows, and arrange useful ammunition. What ammunition should I use: Ethereal cartridge nine? It's probably too powerful for someone like Gero, but you never know.

I click the ammunition into the loading dock, hearing it lock into place. `Now to wait for the good doctor, oh where ever could he be? It seems he may be in hiding…no in waiting for me to reveal myself, as if.'

Then, I see the rascal. He's just doing rounds on the perimeter waiting for me to make the move, as if daring me to meet him head-to-head. `Yah, like that's going to happen.'

My fingers slip onto the trigger, waiting for the moment for my precious lamb to reveal his shiny little head for the barrel of my rifle. `Yes, good boy, you're just making this easier for me.' Only then do I pull the trigger, and watch as Gero's body disintegrates from the bullet blast. `Oh well, he won't be on my mantle, then.'

Unfortunately, my celebration was pre-mature. A black cloud approaches from the edge of the killzone, and it was full of Dr. Gero's. Apparently, he had more than just one clone.

To make things worse, I just revealed my position and was open to retaliation from any angles. It seems that these clones knew this too, judging by how seven of these "clones" were barreling towards me.

One of them was a bit too eager, as it started to flash Ki in anticipation. I needed to run and now! Without even thinking about it, I charge forward and jump out of the window narrowly avoiding the replica's blast.

My momentum had sent me on a collision course with the reckless droid, with me in the line of a cocked punch, at least in the mind of the artificial intelligent being. At the last second, I shifted my weight to perform a downward backflip evading the powerful punch.

The slow reaction time of the android left it open to a fatal series of events. I never completed the backflip because I hooked my legs on the waist of the Gero clone, and used the recoil of bouncing off his torso to fire a Ki blast at his neck, which decapitated the hapless fighter.

At the apex of the recoil, I detached my legs from the dead android and flipped to turn myself right-side up. As I get closer to the ankles of the fallen grunt, maneuvering my body to clasp and launch myself from his shins. Upon grasping his shins and launching myself, I twirled my body to clip the legs out from another android that happened to be right next to my latest victim.

That android didn't move fast enough. Before he could react, I had already clipped his leg out from under him and re-oriented myself in the perfect position to finish him off. I condensed a serrated cloud of Ki and cut the falling creatures head off with a chop of the aforementioned hand.

Before the head could fall into the ocean, I caught the head by strains of its hair, and threw it right at another clone. The flying project was simply going too fast for the helpless piece of artificial intelligence. The head (with the same velocity of a weak blast) shattered itself upon the torso of the stricken bot, and shattered the bot with it.

Meanwhile the bots (presumed) friend charged at me, likely seeing a non-existent chance for a metaphorical parry. Too bad for him that my condensed Ki sword was still active and it didn't take any time at all for me to slice him in half. Well that, and repeat the same process of throwing his severed head at another hapless fool, which was successful again.

That "attack force" had dwindled down to nothing in approximately half-a-minute, it was simply far too easy to dispatch them. What was the catch? What was Gero's game?

While, pondering Gero's intention, I didn't catch him sneak up behind me. It's never fun to have your adversary slammed both of his hand like a club into your spine and sends you plummeting onto the roof of a building. How did that just fucking happen?

Picking myself from out of the concrete was harder than I thought, it must've been due to having most of my strength drained from me. I definitely not used to fighting in my base form anymore.

"Seinshin, I hope that you didn't expect that you could hide from me. I can't blame you though, but hiding is a futile venture against me."

"Hiding, weren't you the one that was just hiding around to give me a cheap shot? I guess it takes one to know one, prick!"

"Irreverent, I wasn't trying to snipe somebody – the very definition of hiding. Computing cheap shots with hiding is illogical."

"Whatever, not like that's going to stop me from wrenching your head from your neck, like your delightful compadres."

"My "compadres" are nothing more than quantitative design meant to overwhelm by numbers. The mere thought that you can compete with me by killing a mere six of them is pitifully laughable. That and that you forgot that I'm _stronger _than you, presently."

"You may be right, but if you sincerely have conviction in what you say, then you haven't done your research all that thoroughly. It doesn't matter how much stronger, smarter or more ruthless you are than me, you will _never _defeat me. I've fought through nightmarish scenes in the past, and you will be no different: outgunned, outnumbered and outmatched by enemies much more valiant than you. Every time I think it's the end, I find a way to outlive, outwit and outlast it all, even with my dastardly luck. Don't think you're the exception Gero, because you are not."

"A convincing story child, but ineffective. Any last words?" responded Gero, voice as dead as always after that exchange. "It's seems that the reinforcements have arrived."

Oh, who'd ever guess? More clones, but he wasn't joking; the conglomeration of them were blocking the light of the sun. Ah, just another fool that keeps thinking pure numbers are useful in combating me.

My vehement disgust at this site was too profound to say shut. "You know Gero, I somewhat respected you before this. You're a gifted scientist and look at what you're making! Junk, that's what it is—stuff that wouldn't be qualified to serve me toast at the start of the day. Fuck quantitative design, these "androids" are trash and you know it. However, since you wish to continue this non-sense; I'll just eliminate your play-things. Fire gate unleashed!"

My alabaster skin gets flushed with a blood red pigment, and cauterized seals spread around my body like sprawling tattoos. In the center of this metamorphoses, lay my arteries and veins that ran blood red in every conceivable direction. Then, these flamboyant changes disperse as quickly as they came and my voice returns to me. "Fire god: grant me the black mass."

The entire clusterfuck of androids spontaneously combust into black flames, disintegrating from artificial intelligence; to scrap metal; then to particles of dust that are scattered into the thick ashen wind. In this chaos, I make my escape from the roof. Nice try Gero.

* * *

Aw, Vegeta. He was as much or a headache as ever, but now I can only imagine what it will be now. He's a super-saiyan, what he's always wanted. The fool now has that great power and its clearly going to his head. But is his pride the new enemy of the Earth.

The blond-haired prince just stares at the battlefield, not even bothering to hide his indignation at this turn of events. He turns toward me and Goku, barely hiding his challenging gaze. "So, Kakarot, these were the androids you were talking about. Tin cans, that's all they were third-class, not even worth fighting. Now, with that "threat" cleared you _will _fight me and lose in humiliating fashion. It's time that the prince regains his former throne."

Goku, not fazed at Vegeta's stereotypically dramatic banter replied. "There are more androids, Vegeta. I'm not going to fight until you I know that the Earth is safe."

Vegeta snorts in disgust at the sentimentality of Goku's plea. "You really are an embarrassment to your race, clown. Your ancestors must be rolling in their graves to hear one of their own oh so concerned with a pathetic race such as the earthlings. Stop making excuses and fight me. _Now_."

"I'm not joking with you Vegeta. There are more androids than you realize, and the more we argue the farther away they get from us. I'll fight you once all this is done, Vegeta, but not before."

A vein in Vegeta's head blows up in one of his epic fits of helpless rage. "Fine trash, we'll do this your way, but remember: you're just making your pre-ordained beating worse by denying what your prince wants." His piece said, Vegeta rages off into the city to find these "fighters."

I snort at his theatrical exit—he didn't even see the obvious. "The hothead is going to get us all killed someday. To think that he is too blinded by pride to not have seen that china doll escape."

Goku recoils in shock at my declaration. "You mean he escaped?"

Repressing the urge to smack Goku outside the head was arduous, how could he not see it. It couldn't have been more obvious if he was wielding a chainsaw. `These full-blooded saiyans must have the combined I.Q of a pile of bricks.'

"Yes Goku, he escaped," shouted Piccolo, clearly getting fed up with the situation at hand.

"What do you suggest we do, Piccolo? Split up and find them?"

"Precisely, Goku," I replied, with more than a little bit of frustration under the tone of my voice. Sometimes dealing with Goku's inquisitions required a bit more patience than I had.

"Okay, Piccolo," said Goku. "Where do you want to look? Vegeta stormed off towards the south-west, so I was thinking of going towards the city center. Do you want to search the eastern ocean-front?"

"Sure, why not," I begrudgingly respond, not like it would make a difference in the long run.

We both flied off in our respective directions, both of us uncertain how to combat this new enemy. `Neither of us were good killers without the use of Ki.'

The north-eastern promenade was one of the worst slum districts of the city. Decay, dirt and graffiti lined almost every wall and building, and tobacco smoke was almost a toxic miasma in the air. Many…irreparable business were dotting even this small street I landed on: brothels, taverns, money-orders businesses and run-down "convenience" stories. You name it; this domicile of hell had it.

`And what better place for a machine of hell to reside in than a neighborhood from hell, it truly was a match made in heaven!'

I took off from this shithole to scope the district from the air, thinking it was safer in the long run. Upon seeing nothing for the umpteenth time, I felt it was time to head back to another district, but something kept me gravitated to this hellhole. It was almost an intrinsic curiosity. `What was it about this place?'

While deliberating, my decision was made for me. One street in that large slum stood out, it seemed to be…dead. It housed no life force of any kind, even the decaying residue of ki. `It must be that infernal android.'

`Oh, Kami.' This street wasn't normal, a battlefield, or even a routine crime scene. It was requiem. Hundreds of bodies were littered in mass dumps, mutilated beyond words or even thought. The victims spanned the spectrum: from one-month old infants to one-hundred year old women and each one were treated to the same "courtesy."

I flare my ki around me, well aware that it would send the android and Goku running. I didn't care, as long as this bastard paid for his crimes.

Uh, I hate how blind I am. This matter of trying to scope these cheeky assholes with our eyes is alarming, especially with how they can sense you. I'm pretty much a sitting duck in this alley way.

My ears are focused—ears dilated—fear not showing a bit. Trying to make yourself look invulnerable isn't easy, but I know it's imperative that I keep this android on edge until those degenerates arrive. `How much longer could they be?'

Suddenly, I felt a knee press into my spine and an arm wrap around my neck, lifting me up into the air choking me. In a panic, I start to elbow frenziedly at the attacker hoping to force his arm away from me. No dice, all he does is start giggling as he grabs my elbow and dislocates my shoulder.

I clench my teeth to quell the pain racing throughout my system, well that and to prevent from making a mockery of myself by yelling out. However, Android 19 holds no regard for my distress as he lifts me to my feet and starts to drag me back into the open boulevard of this cesspool. From there he appears only to wait.

In the distance, I see two distinctive dots on the horizon zoom in towards us. As they descent into this scene my shame only grows. That doesn't stop Goku from contributing though!

"Hey, let Piccolo go!" demanded Goku, with the sternest voice he could've possibly attained.

The android erupts into a giggling fit at the implication of Goku's words, pressing his fingers deeper into the crook of my neck. He starts to back up, though, proving in my mind he's a bit more scared than his giggling conveys.

"Shut up, Kakarot and let me finish this tin-can," sneers Vegeta, outstretching his palm again.

My holder then starts to babble nervous non-sense, knowing what going to happen to him if he doesn't stop Vegeta. In desperation, he starts to generate his own ki orb against my neck, which is only effective if your purpose was to singe some of my skin.

"Do it! It won't prolong your death," snickers Vegeta, as ki starts to form in his aforementioned hand.

I needed to get out of this stranglehold. Vegeta wasn't the character to trust your life too, or have any amount of impulse control and patience if you did.

Leave it to Goku to buy me some time. "Vegeta, don't fire. Piccolo's still in danger."

Vegeta turns towards Goku and bares his well-developed saiyan fangs and snarl dangerously. "Quiet, you stupid fool. Your sentimentality is a disgrace to your heritage, you inbred mongrel. Now, shut up before I rip out your throat."

Goku backs down from Vegeta's "onslaught," fearing to provoke him again into an attack. He instinctively knew that goading Vegeta wasn't a good idea right about now.

Nineteen's eyes just kept getting wider at the sight of the developing blast, clearly seeing himself getting erased from the planet. In a haze of panic, he drops Piccolo and begins to back-track towards the alley. At the last second, when he thought the coast was clear, he began to run away like a frightened child.

Smirking like a predator off his leash, Vegeta steadies his palm ready to launch his doomsday present on the helpless machine.

Nineteen never made it to the alleyway. As he turned around to run, a steel sword slashed through the machines neck and continued in a fluid motion to bisecting him at the waist. After this, the mysterious warrior blasted most of the scraps into dust scattered by the wind.

Every Z-fighter tenses at the incoming mystery fighter, not aware of whose side he's on or how powerful he is.

Our mysterious warrior walks into the sunlight revealing his identity. Everybody instantly recognized him: violet hair, navy blue jacket, and almost a bond-esque smile. "Sorry, about not coming earlier. There were some…unforeseen difficulties at home."

Goku smiles at Trunk's arrival on the scene. "Hey, Trunks, you're back!"

"Yes, Goku I'm back. I assume you've lived through the heart virus, judging by your appearance. Did it cause you any trouble?"

"Actually, Trunks it never happened. I never caught the heart virus, not even a slight twitch of pain."

Trunks eyes widen from shock, begging for answers to his questions: `How is that even possible? Did the future just get re-written again?'

"How, Goku? You were supposed to get it, they're shouldn't be any way you couldn't have gotten it without changing history. Things as complex are heart viruses shouldn't be confined to only one scenario."

Goku's eyes flash with a look of remorse and regret—a foreign concept to what Trunks was ever told about Goku's personality.

Goku starts to stare at the ground, exhibiting another uncharacteristic trait—stoicism; not just in countenance too. "I never said that the heart virus didn't strike, just that it didn't strike me. Instead, it ended up killing Gohan."

In that one sentence, everything became clear to Trunks. He had come to the realization about himself, time travel and warfare: nothing has made sense or ever will. If one slip of the tongue, revealing what _one _future could be change another so profoundly that it wouldn't be recognizable to his own. Perhaps, maybe the world truly didn't have a shred of continuity.

Different worlds or not, everybody noticed how Goku's tone changed when approaching the subject of Gohan's death. He may have tried stoicism, but his execution was so faulty that clearly it was affecting him more than he said it did.

But, that didn't mean everybody kept their thoughts to themselves:

"So, we got another failure on your impression list Kakarot. First, you fail to protect your brat and then you mourn his death like a dog. Pathetic, just beyond pathetic Kakarot. Get up and starts acting with a bit of dignity like your heritage demands." Yah, subtly; Not Vegeta's strong suite.

Goku snarls dangerously at Vegeta, almost looking to deck him into the one of these decrepit tenements. Fortunately for the denizens of South City, the punch never came.

Trunks bites down on his lip hard, futilely trying to prevent himself from foolishly lashing out at his father for his callous and disrespectful behavior towards their likely savior. Safe to say, he couldn't hold himself together. "Vegeta, that was out of line and transcended heartless. Don't you know how important Goku is to the defense of this planet?"

Silence, pure unadulterated silence. Vegeta walks forward at his son, glaring proverbial daggers into his terrified flesh. Upon approaching the lavender-haired youth, he grasps hold of Trunk's shirt and pulls him close to his mouth, which may have as well been dripping black poison at the boy. "Now, listen and listen well. You will not _ever _use that tone with me again, or I'll rip off that insolent mouth of yours and feed it to a closest mongrel I can find. You don't need that useless disgrace of a Saiyan to fight your battles, not as long as I'm here to clean up your messes. Do I make myself crystal—"

Goku had heard enough from Vegeta and his malevolent threats. This had to stop before it got out of hand. "Vegeta, you won't hurt any of my friends today or any other day. If you want to pick a fight with me, then so be it. But don't bring innocent people into your feud with me; they have nothing to do with it."

Vegeta drops Trunks and gets into a fighting position. "Okay, Kakarot, are you prepared to be humiliated by a saiyan elite?"

When an all-out war was about to be declared, a new voice arrived on the scene. "Oh, that won't be necessary. Both of you city-boys will be groveling at my feet soon enough," said the voice, amused at petty bickering breaking apart the Z-fighters.

All of us stare straight at this new menace. Why did I have a feeling that the real battle was just beginning.


End file.
